Before the Fall
I can only see
The tops of trees
Sweet tips of green
Soft leaves of me
In sharp relief
-me

I can only see
The tops of trees
Sweet tips of green
Soft leaves of me
In sharp relief
-me
~ by April on August 6, 2021.
Posted in Body, Death, Humanity, Identity, Loss, Love, Nature, Poetry, Whimsy
Tags: Fall, Hubris, Icarus, Leaves, Poetry, Summer, The Fall, Too close, vulnerability